After All These Years
by Akasuna no Rin
Summary: England had confessed to him a billion times by now; America is just waiting for the time when he does it sober/ USUK, mentions of others


A/N: I had assumed I would never write another Hetalia fanfic again, but I was wrong. I've been moving backwards when it comes to what fandoms I'm a part of (I still have a Pokemon fic I need to type up and post, ha).

* * *

"I love you, you daft idiot!" came the strangled cry next to him. America let out a sigh.

"That was repetitive, don't you think?" he asked, patting his friend on the shoulder. The other man trembled and fell into a heap on the counter. America could hear the muffled sound of sobbing; it had reached the time of the night when America usually called it quits and hauled the Brit back to his house before he hurt something or someone.

"Hey there, England, don't you think it's time to go home now?" America asked calmly, pulling on his arm a bit. His hand was promptly slapped away.

"Why don't you just leave me alone again, why don't cha?" England said into the counter, muffled by his arms.

"I would, but you don't have a ride other than me and I don't think it'd be kind of the hero to just leave you huddled in a bar," America said sarcastically, then with one single movement he hoisted the other man over his shoulder. Drunken shouts followed this movement, but few people in the bar seemed to take notice of this; this spectacle was actually somewhat common by now. America waved to the bar tender and propped the door open with his foot, a drunken England slamming his arms weakly against America's back now.

Once they were outside in the chill winter air, England stopped hitting him and returned to drunken mumbling. America didn't need to listen to know the gist of what he was saying; there was a time when he would have listened in rapt attention, but he no longer wanted to hear England's pained mutterings. He'd heard it all over and over again by now.

Laying him in the back seat then moving into the front seat, he turned around to pull out of the parking space. He hadn't bothered buckling the other man up; it was only a short distance home and surely he would have had some choice words for the other country if he'd tried to buckle him up.

America didn't bother taking England to his house tonight. He had a special room at his own house for nights like this. You should never drink alone, people would say, and America agreed. That's why he often went out with England like this. At least this way he had someone to yell at rather than being huddled by himself. It's also the reason he tended to drink lightly. It had started as a way to hear England's drunken ramblings, but by this time America did it to make sure England got home alright.

He'd more or less heard everything he needed to hear from a drunk England anyway.

There's more to being a hero than superpowers and spandex, America had learned. One part of being a hero was the weird lack of recognition. To everyone else he ended up being the dumb buffoon who would be happy as long as he had ice cream and a Big Mac. And that was at least partially right, he sure did love those two things. But he also tried his best to take care of others whenever possible, even though this usually manifested itself in him not getting the right kind of recognition.

Everyone knew that he went out drinking with England often. How many of them knew what happened then, who knows? A lot of them probably assumed that America made jokes at England's expense (he did) and grabbed his ass when he was too drunk to care (he didn't).

Some things did happen quite often at these little get togethers. America now knew several things about England that he would have never known just being around the stuffy sober him.

Like the fact that England loved him and had for a long, long time.

At first America had thought it was just drunken ramblings and hadn't really meant anything. So he'd ignored it, laughed, teased him about France or something. After all, they were just the drunken mumblings (or shouts, as it happened) of an apparently sad man.

But the confessions (and they most certainly were confessions) kept coming. Pretty much anytime England had enough to drink he'd start telling America how much he missed him, loved him, etc etc. For all that it made America happy, he also knew that England was just saying that because he was drunk.

So he'd decided that he'd wait. Wait for England to tell him while sober.

As America pulled up to his house and looked into the back seat, he realized that England had dozed off, which must have been why it had been quiet enough for America to think. As he turned off the car he thought about what the best way to get him into the house without waking him.

He ended up using the trustworthy bridal style, cradling him as he walked into his house and up to the room he'd set aside for England. He pulled off England's coat and shoes, but didn't want to pull anything else off for fear of an irate, hungover Brit the next morning wondering where his clothes had gone and if America had undressed him (it had happened before).

Now that he was laying down quietly and sleeping, he seemed much more peaceful. He smelled like alcohol and would be tons of fun tomorrow but that was another day. For now he was just England, not angry at America or yelling or teasing, he was peaceful and calm and America wished it could be like that more often. He pushed some of the other man's hair out of his face, then got off of the bed.

America sure as hell wouldn't be the first to say it, but man did he love England.

...

He looked up from his book when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. England's hair was mussed and he wore the biggest scowl, but America had expected that. He picked up the coffee he'd been sipping on and offered it to England.

"Coffee?" he asked, which was responded to with a growl.

"How are you up and about?" England asked, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.

"Maybe I handle my alcohol better than you?" America asked, and then before he could get something thrown at him, amended, "or more likely I just didn't have as much as you."

England grumbled again but walked into the kitchen to grab some of his tea that he'd made America stash in there. Soon he was sitting in the same room and staring blankly at the wall with his tea in hand. He wouldn't really be functioning for a little while.

England jumped when America's cell phone rang, and America answered it quickly before England could go off.

"Yo," he said, putting his comic book down.

"I expect England's at your house? He's not answering his phone," France's voice filtered through the phone.

"Sure is," America answered.

"Drinking last night?"

"Yup."

"Ah. Well, tell him that Germany is having a party next weekend and he wanted me to invite you two," France said. America's eyebrow rose.

"Germany?"

"From what I can tell, Italy has been twisting his arm for it," France said off handedly, "but it looks to be interesting. Anyway, I'll leave you to the angel now."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks for your wonderful consideration," America said, then ended the call. England looked over expectantly.

"Party at Germany's place next weekend," America told him.

"That call was from France though," England said, and America just looked at him.

"I didn't say anything to make you think that, but yes it was," America said, "he called for Germany."

"It's France's ringtone, you idiot," England lay back down, "he's some Daft Punk song. Germany is some heavy metal German screamo or something."

America noticed that he still wasn't up to functioning, but he seemed to be much more alert than he had been. "Rammstein, but yeah, you're right. Didn't realize you knew that."

England snorted. "'Course not, dumbass. You have the attention span of a fly, so I doubt you'd notice something like that."

"Hurtful," America said, jokingly, though it actually did sting, because the other nation didn't seem to realize just how much he actually paid attention to him. England chuckled, but didn't respond. He was probably at his limit, conversationally, for the next little while. America picked up his book again and allowed the silence to come back.

...

America wasn't the first person to arrive by far. He could hear the music inside (it did sound like Italy had decided most of it, including the music) and plenty of people talking. Canada was walking behind him, because everyone else had forgotten to invite him and America had thought to take him at the last moment. America wondered whether he should even ring the doorbell before Canada did it for him. He heard a shout from inside and then the door burst open.

China greeted him, which led him to believe that whoever had been closest to the door had been the one to open it. He walked in quickly, smiling at China as he walked in.

"You guys can start partying now that I'm here!" America shouted through the house. Someone threw an empty cup, which hit his shoulder, and he could smell beer from the cup. Leaving it where it was he wandered in further through the house, looking for either England or someone else who'd talk to him. Canada wandered around behind him until France appeared to pull him away from his older brother.

He found England talking loudly to Sweden, the volume of his voice telling America that he'd already had some to drink. Sweden looked slightly bored and like he wanted to wander off and do something else, instead of listen to whatever England happened to be talking about.

"Hey there England, what's up?" America said, swinging an arm over the other man's shoulder and smiling at Sweden quickly before looking back at England.

"Bloody hell, where'd you- oh never mind, I don't care," England said quickly, deflating a bit. He smiled at America. "Glad to see you weren't too busy partying somewhere else."

"Well, you know me. My people need me!" America said, arm still over England's shoulder, "plus, who would I rather spend my time with than this big dysfunctional family?"

England snorted at his big talk. America pulled his arm off of England as he took another drink, but didn't remove his hand entirely. England didn't seem to notice the hand on his arm as he took another drink.

"This German beer isn't nearly as good as mine," he boasted, "but it'll do. It's better than some stupid French wine."

"No it's not!" France yelled from the opposite side of the room, and England seemed to realize how loud he'd been talking. That was only momentary though, because he quickly took another drink and was back to talking. America listened for all of it, but some of the topics were less interesting than the others. America watched people move in and out around them, but because they appeared to be in the main room most of the people tended to be in that room.

As more alcohol was consumed there was a bit more movement and more interesting things went on around them. As the music continued on some people started to dance, at first just the less reserved people until anyone who was not dancing had to stay along the walls to avoid getting hit. America had only had one cup but likely would be dancing soon as he watched Italy attempt to get Germany to do more than a side to side bob. France was trying to waltz with Canada to the quick pop music, though America assumed it was probably a joke, at least partially. People moved in and out of the main room, but most people who weren't dancing by now were at least watching.

America hadn't danced yet, preferring to stay close and make sure England didn't do something stupid, but when one of his songs came on he knew he'd have to go dance.

"Sorry to leave, but you know I've gotta dance to this," he said to England, then, more loudly, "make way guys, dancing king coming through!"

England seemed to not care at first, but after the song was over and America stayed up there (he'd snagged a dance with Japan, who seemed to be enjoying himself for now) England seemed to become more and more annoyed. After finishing up with Japan and pushing him to another partner (Greece, it seemed) he started over to where England was sitting.

"Hey there, why aren't you dancing any?" America asked, and England turned a bit red. It was about the time of the night, and England had drunk enough by now that America knew he'd probably be willing to dance.

"I just hadn't thought you'd want me cramping your style up there," England said, off to the side. America laughed. He yanked on his shirtsleeve, pulling him to a standing position.

"Let's see how terribly you dance with that much alcohol in your system, old man," America said through laughter. America twirled him around a bit, which hardly made him more sure of where he was, and then they tried to dance in between the other couples who were dancing, along with the people who were freestyling by themselves (Korea seemed to be having fun, dragging anyone and everyone nearby into his weird dancing. Right now it seemed to be Canada who was his victim).

America smiled when he noticed that England seemed to be having fun, even though he'd had a bit more to drink than America would have liked. He'd rather not have England yell about how much he loved him in the middle of everyone. When they twirled over to where France was sitting America heard a wolf whistle and he winked at the European nation, who merely tittered out a laugh.

England, with his thought process dulled, saw this interaction and suddenly became melancholy. After a while America dragged him back over to the side to ask him what was wrong.

"England, why the sudden mood swing? I mean, you were having fun and now you're hardly moving at all," America asked.

"How do you know I was having fun?" England asked, dejectedly. They were talking to each other quietly and they were close enough that America could smell the alcohol. The thought crossed his mind as to why England felt the need to get drunk so much, but it was gone as he attempted to handle what was quickly becoming a situation.

"Well, you seemed to be," America said, putting his hand on England's arm. England looked at his hand and then looked at America and something seemed to break. America could sense it right before it happened.

"Well you looked like you were having fun without me, so I don't know why you put up with me, all I ever do is get drunk and stupid," England said, and America was struck with how out of character that was, even for a drunk England.

"You don't know how much fun I'm having with you," America said, "I'm sure I'd have fun no matter whether you were sober or dead drunk."

"Yeah, really," England said, nearly falling into a seat. America looked over his shoulder and noticed that the other nations seemed to be looking at them. England had been growing steadily louder over the course of the conversation, though he'd hardly been quiet at the beginning.

"Oh my god England, stop that," America said, annoyed. England looked up at him like a hit puppy.

"I love you, you ass, and yet you'd rather spend all of your time with anyone else!" England said, flopping backwards drunkenly. Knowing they'd already made a scene, America quit any pretenses.

"Come here," America said, dragging him up out of his seat. England flopped onto him, seemingly giving up. America hauled him up and started out of the room, flashing a smile to the rest of the nations.

"Good thing he has a designated driver, right?" America commented as he walked out of the room, carrying a drunkenly sobbing England in his arms easily.

The trip back was hardly much different than usual. America took England back to his hotel, since he had no idea where England was staying and he didn't seem to be in the right mind to tell him where he was staying. Once they got there and he had carried the teary eyed man upstairs, he settled him down on his bed. Pulling his jacket and shoes off again, he pulled the blanket up over the other man, then attempted to make himself comfortable on the floor, knowing that Canada would need the other bed to himself.

"Hey," America was awoken by a kick. He blinked his eyes open to see Canada looking down at him. "I didn't even stay here, I thought you'd take the other bed. I went to France's room."

"Don't give me teasing fodder when I'm not awake enough," America said groggily, pulling himself out of the floor. He noticed England was still asleep. He raised an eyebrow at Canada.

"Your problem. I just came over to make sure you were okay, since you weren't answering your phone," Canada said, sitting on the unused bed.

"I'll be fine, England never remembers this shit the next day," America told his brother.

"Is this a common occurrence?" Canada asked, incredulous.

"Well, there isn't usually a room of our friends around us, but him getting drunk and telling me he loves me and getting super dependent, that is sort of common," America said.

"How common?" Canada asked.

"Pretty much any time he drinks," America answered.

"Why in the world have you not told him you love him back?" Canada said, not even needing to ask America if he returned the other country's feelings.

"I'd been wanting him to tell me while he's sober," America answered, looking over at England, "but I'm starting to doubt that will happen. He never remembers it the next day and he acts like nothing even happened."

Canada stared at him for a beat too long, and America started to feel uncomfortable. "You should talk to him about it," Canada said eventually, then stood up, "and I'm going to go back to France's room, so I don't have to deal with this weirdness."

"Don't even pretend you don't want to go to his room," America countered, to a blush from Canada and a thrown pillow. When he'd left the room America collapsed onto the bed and went back to sleep, not even removing any more clothes or pulling back the covers.

When he woke up, it was to England this time. The other country prodded him with a drink, and America perked up quickly to the smell of coffee. Even though it was nasty hotel coffee, it made him feel better. England sat cross-legged on the other bed, what had been America's, sipping what appeared to also be coffee, since there was no tea.

Neither said anything, and America didn't expect England to be over his hangover enough to talk much. He stood up after finishing the coffee and looked over at where England was sitting pensively.

"Thanks for the coffee," America said, "do you think you'll be okay if I go out for a moment?"

"Most likely," England answered curtly.

"You can shower or something, my clothes are over there," America gestured to where his stuff was, "feel free to change into that when you are finished."

England didn't respond but America knew he'd heard him. Hopefully that wasn't a bad sign, and with that America walked out of the room. He walked away slowly, but as soon as he felt like he was far enough away he started running to where he knew Japan's room was.

When he skidded into place in front of his door he knocked urgently. Japan was at the door quickly, luckily for America fully clothed. America realized that he was still wearing the same stuff as last night, but then tried to forget how gross he probably was.

"Yes?" Japan asked his friend.

"Can we talk?" America asked, and Japan nodded, opening the door open wider. America stepped in and looked at the main room. He noticed Greece sleeping in the bed and raised an eyebrow at Japan, who returned it without a word.

"Greece?"

"Korea wanted to come back with me, then Greece jumped in and pretended that we'd been planning on going back together. He had to come back with me to make sure Korea didn't notice," Japan explained, quietly.

"So it's platonic?"

"Thought you wanted to talk about something, not gossip," Japan said quickly, cutting America off.

"Technically that is talking but whatever. I assume you saw what happened last night, right?" America asked. Japan nodded, not needing clarification. "Well, that's not the first time that's happened and I'd been planning on letting him wait and tell me sober but I don't know if that's going to happen and I don't know what I should do."

"And you need me to help you decide?" Japan asked.

"Please?"

"Idiot," Japan said, "you should be able to figure it out yourself."

"What?" America asked, "you ass!"

"Oh come on, America-kun. Do you really think that I'm the best for romantic advice?" Japan asked him, eyes flickering over to the bed. America chuckled.

"Okay, sure, but for serious, what should I do?"

Japan took a deep breath. "I imagine it's a good idea to get it over and tell him how you feel, rather than drag it on. It seems to be hurting him more than its worth to wait."

"Okay," America said, "see, this is why I ask you. You make sense. Now, I should probably go back to my room and make sure he's okay."

Japan smiled at America and nodded. America started to move toward to the door, but then stopped and looked back at Japan. He leaned forward and whispered to Japan, "I dunno if you've done anything yet, but I think it'd be a good idea to make a move. He seems up for it."

Japan turned red and pushed America toward the door. "Okay, okay, I got it, I'm gone!" America said, laughing. He exited the room and sprinted off as soon as he'd closed the door (quietly, as he didn't want Greece to wake up just yet).

He slowed down when he got back to the room, and opened up the door slowly. England was still in the shower, but that wasn't surprising, since he'd only been gone for about 15 minutes. America walked over to the bed that England had slept on and collapsed backwards. He pulled out his new 3ds and started fiddling with the controls, merely looking for something to be doing when England got out of the shower. About then he heard the click of the shower stopping and minutes later England came out wearing one of America's button down plaid shirts.

"Hmmm, you look good in plaid," America said, jokingly.

"Laugh all you like, but you were setting me up for that. You have all together too much plaid," England said, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. The shirt was a bit too big on him, but it didn't look that bad, considering. They were quiet for a moment, and America started staring at his 3ds again.

"So..." America started, not looking up, "about yesterday?"

"What about it?" England said, a bit tersely.

"How much of it do you remember?" America asked him.

"A little bit," England admitted sheepishly.

"How much would that be?" America gave up all pretenses of playing a game and shut it down.

"Enough," England said, closing his eyes, then before America could say anything, continued, "look, I know that I made a scene, and you've put up with my idiotic drunken outbursts before now, but-"

"Wait, you mean you remember those?" America asked, sitting up and looking over at England, who had sat down on the edge of the bed. England looked over at him.

"Yeah, I do," England said.

"If you knew what you did when you got drunk, why in the world would you continue to drink like that?" America asked, totally and completely confused now.

"When I did that, you didn't seem to mind," England said, "it didn't bother you when it happened. The first time it was an accident, but when you didn't say anything I imagined you were just dismissing it as drunken babble and I allowed myself to keep doing it."

"But I suppose now that it happened in front of everyone, you'd rather me stop and I understand that," England continued, "I am sorry that I put you through all of that.

America was speechless.

"So you knew all along."

"I just said that, didn't I?" England responded snippily.

"You would drink so much because you thought that I just put up with it when you were drunk because you were drunk," America said.

"...Yes."

"God, and people say _I'm_ an idiot!"

"Excuse me?"

"England, you idiot, I've been waiting forever for you to tell me you loved me while you were fucking sober, and you've been assuming that I only put up with it, like you were some pet that I just 'put up with'," America half-yelled. He leaned over to England, who no longer smelled like alcohol thanks to the shower. Sadly, the moment was ruined a bit by the fact that America did smell faintly like alcohol, since he hadn't showered since before the party. England looked a bit dumbfounded by the turn of events.

"Well guess what, I love _you_, okay?" America said forcefully.

"I-" England started, then looked at America guiltily, "I love you too."

America burst into laughter.

"Of course it's like this, I always wondered what was up with that. I thought the feelings were so repressed that you only acted on them when you were drunk, and that's why you never seemed to remember any of your drunken rambling," America said through laughter, to a steadily blushing England.

"Well you don't have to act like such an ass about it!" England said to him, "I'm-"

England never finished the statement, because the excited America reached forward and yanked England to him, pulling him into a kiss. America kept his hands on England's collar, while the other man's hand moved forward to sit on America's knees.

When they separated they didn't really; America kept his forehead leaned against England's.

"Let's try not to binge drink too much anymore, okay?" America said, "It tends to make you sad just as much as it lowers your inhibitions."

England chuckled. "Surely I'll manage that, now."

America rolled his eyes. "How in the world could you possibly think that I didn't return your feelings? Why would I put up with a drunk you that much just to have to haul your ass back home all the time?"

"I must not have been thinking, I suppose," England said, at least partially sarcastically as he attempted a glare, but because of how close they were it simply made him look constipated.

"And that's usually your strong point, Mr. Gentleman," America said with a laugh, "God I love you."

And with that England was yanked into another kiss.


End file.
